


The Company Makes The Trip: A List Of Ways To Survive A 9 Hour Flight

by tentacledicks



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Choking, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mile High Club, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shame, Shower Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: So obviously, I love Milan. I don't get the chance to visit it very often, not with my work schedule, and I jumped at the chance to fly out there this time. It also gave me the opportunity to check out the Emirates A380, with its vaunted on-flight showers and highly rated first class seating. But, and I'll confess I don't say this often, it was pretty hard to focus on the accommodations when my companion is what really kept my attention...Or: The One Where Jordi Drags Aiden Out Of The Closet With Oddly Designed Travel Arrangements





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be working on the other WIPs I have in the pipeline? Yes.  
Did I do this instead? Yes.
> 
> But on the other hand, have y'all seen this fucking trend of [windows in hotel bathrooms??](https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/c2/13/74/radisson-blu-hotel-new.jpg)

“I _ hate_,” Aiden groaned as he fell back against the bed, “fucking _ airplanes_.”

The bags fell to either side of the bed, hard cases thunking as he let the handles slip out of his hands. Both were in his name, because unlike _ somebody_, Aiden didn’t have the (falsified) documentation to carry his bags through TSA without having them checked. So his clothes and few toiletries were stuffed in around the edges of Jordi’s pressed and folded suits in _ his _ bags, while their guns were neatly packed into the guitar case and long rifle case Jordi had carted onto the plane without a hint of shame.

Nine hours on a plane and Aiden cared a whole hell of a lot less about that now. _ Now _ all he wanted was a fucking pizza and a good night’s sleep. The bed in this hotel room was massive, big enough for two grown men, the sheets white with a heavy down comforter folded over the foot of it. Like the rest of the hotel room, it was clean and modern looking, the headboard the same flat black as the wall panel to his right and the blackout curtains to his left. Not especially inspired, but it was functional. All he needed out of a hotel room.

“You’re only bitching because I put you down in economy,” Jordi said, setting the gun cases down more carefully. He was the one who’d invited Aiden out on this job, so he was the one that had paid for everything. Aiden resented that a little right about now.

“No, I’m bitching because I hate flying. If there was a road across the ocean, I’d take the week-long drive over a goddamn _ flight_.” He kicked off his shoes, then sat up with another groan to pull off his jacket, dumping it off the side of the bed too. The black leather one, because Jordi had banned anything that might be recognizable, and Aiden wasn’t going to wear one of _ Jordi’s _ jackets.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go shower. You… do whatever it is you wanna do.” With a flippant wave, Jordi grabbed his toiletry bag and strutted back to the bathroom. Rolling his eyes, Aiden pulled his phone up and started hunting for a place that delivered.

It was Italy. Someone had to deliver pizza in Italy. Right?

He didn’t look up when the door clicked shut, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black wall panel light up. With a frown, he lifted his head—some kind of new ctOS thing, maybe—and then froze.

That wasn’t a decorative panel. That was a window.

Slowly he lifted his hand to wave at Jordi, who was squinting into it. Jordi, like an asshole, didn’t wave back, only shrugged and started pulling his toiletries out. He was acting like there wasn’t a window between them at all, like Aiden couldn’t see the edge of the toilet tucked past the sink, the bathtub just visible under the edge of the windowsill, the shower with its glass walls gone completely transparent. Which was just rich, because of course Jordi wouldn’t have any damn shame, and that meant _ Aiden _ would have to find the blinds and—

His train of thought was completely derailed when Jordi shrugged out of his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, displaying skin that Aiden hadn’t ever gotten a chance to see before. Jordi’s suit hid his muscle alarmingly well, which meant that as he lost pieces of his clothing, Aiden got to see the swell of his pecs, the hairy line of his abs, the firm rise of his butt and thighs. The solid, thick curve of his uncut cock.

That wasn’t a window. _ It was a fucking one-way mirror_.

He should tell Jordi. There was no way he’d be this casual and at ease if he knew Aiden could see him—if nothing else, Jordi was prickly about his appearance at all times. And if he did know about it, he’d surely be playing it up if he wanted Aiden to see, and he wasn’t doing that. He looked liked he wasn’t being watched at all, hanging a towel up where he could reach it and carting his selection of bottles into the shower.

Oh god, he should tell him, but Aiden found his fingers drifting to the fly of his pants instead. Nine hours trapped between people with no ability to move or sleep, nine hours with restless energy building up under his skin, nine hours resenting the handsome man ducking his head under the spray now, and he realized that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t tell Jordi after all. If Jordi didn’t know about the mirror, it couldn’t hurt. He’d just… hope it was a long shower (which Jordi’s usually were) and make sure to clean up after.

Besides, Jordi was straight. Jordi was straight and assumed Aiden was straight, because if there was one thing Aiden was good at, it was blending in. He wouldn’t have a reason to think otherwise. And if Aiden sometimes watched Jordi’s face for too long when they were on stakeouts together, or dreamed about Jordi’s deft fingers curling around his own cock, or thought about how it would feel to have all the power in that misleading package pinning him to a wall, then maybe Aiden was just an idiot sometimes. Maybe he liked the idea of a fantasy that could never come true, not when he knew the kind of man he’d end up with was more likely to be his old ex-partner.

And maybe he wanted to see Jordi’s hands smooth over his pecs, wanted to see Jordi’s eyes slide shut as he basked in the heat of the water and steam. Aiden’s fingers curled around his shaft, smoothed further down and fondled his balls, dragged up to tease around the head. He could imagine a different, larger hand wrapped around his cock, a heavier body pressed over him and pushing him down on the bed.

A soft, needy noise escaped him and he clapped a hand over his mouth to catch it. Through the mirror, Jordi paused, head tipped slightly as he rinsed shampoo and conditioner out of his hair. Aiden’s heart pounded in his ears, the tingle of arousal curling along with the fear of being caught, and he kept his hand over his mouth as he waited. Jordi let the rest of the soap rinse out of hair, then dragged the last of the strands out of his face and reached for the body wash.

Crisis averted. The relief that flooded him made Aiden nearly moan again, his toes curling as he did his best to keep quiet. Shifting on the bed, he laid back, making sure he could still see Jordi. The hand on his mouth shifted down to his throat, like he could catch the sounds in there before they escaped—and like someone else’s hand was wrapped around it.

God, he wondered if Jordi would throttle him for doing this. It was a shamefully eager thought, a sharp tingle of longing rushing through him as his fingers tightened on his own skin for a second in anticipation. Not a good enough leverage to properly press down and stop his breath so he moved his hand up to cover his mouth again, head tipped back against the pillows. Whatever sick fuck had designed this room was catering perfectly to Aiden’s own sick tendencies—there wasn’t a bed stand to block the view from the headboard to the shower.

Jordi was taking his sweet time soaping up, a look of pure contentment on his face as he massaged the soap into skin. His muscles were firm enough that they flexed visibly with the slightest motion, a constant ripple of tension and energy under his pale skin. The way he dug his fingers into his skin showed a simple pleasure in the pressure and release of knots in the muscle, slowly working out the stress of the flight.

Remembering the small bottle of hand lotion Jordi had stuffed in his carry on (because airplanes dried him out, he’d complained) Aiden sat up again, digging through his bag until he could find it. He took the chance to shove his pants and underwear fully off while he was at it—not so far that he couldn’t grab them and yank them on again once the water turned off, but at least now he didn’t have the tight denim confining his legs anymore. The shirt could stay for the moment.

The flurry of activity on his end hadn’t been answered by any extra energy from Jordi, who was still lazily working soap into his legs. Aiden sprawled out on the bed, his own legs spread wide as he fisted his cock again, the slick glide of his palm over the soft skin there almost perfectly matching the pace Jordi set on his own skin.

God, it was intoxicating watching the suds slide off under the water too, Jordi’s hands caught in his hair to keep it out of his face. It meant his whole body was on display, a marble sculpture with the shadow of dark hair in the dips and curves of his stomach, the thatch of it thick around the slowly swelling shape of his cock. An involuntary noise of longing tried to escape past Aiden’s fingers where they pressed tight over his mouth.

Jordi seemed to notice his growing erection a few seconds after Aiden did, dragging one hand over his bearded cheek as he looked down at his darkening shaft. There was a heavy, hooded look in his eyes, and for a moment Aiden could swear Jordi looked at him through the mirror. But that was ridiculous, because Jordi had no way of knowing Aiden was watching, and from the way he reached down and deliberately stroked his cock, he certainly was too comfortable to be aware.

Aiden bit down on the webbing between his thumb and index finger, muffling himself desperately as his other hand tightened around his own dick. He could see the way Jordi’s fingers curled around himself, the way he rolled his foreskin lazily and pulled it away from the head of his cock, the way his thumb slowly dragged over the glans. Jordi touched himself like he had all the time in the world, head tipped back as he basked in the sensation and slow build of pleasure as he worked himself up.

He could just picture Jordi’s hands doing the same to him, touching his skin with the same lazy tenderness, slowly working him into a desperate hazy of want. As it was, Aiden was doing a pretty good job of that himself, the tight, frantic tingle under his toes and burning through his gut leaving him trembling. His hand tightened over his mouth, fingers digging into his jaw hard enough to ache, hips jerking as he watched Jordi’s hand start moving faster, twisting with every stroke up.

He wanted—he wanted to hold on, wanted to keep himself on the edge long enough to see Jordi finish, wanted to come at the same time so it could almost feel like they were doing this together. Like Jordi wanted him, as impossible an idea as that was. But god, it was so much, too much, Jordi’s abs flexing as he rocked into his own hand, Jordi’s lips parted as he panted for breath, Jordi’s cock so thick and dark that Aiden was desperate to have it in his mouth.

His hand pressed down harder, the sharp, short breaths he was sucking through his nose not nearly enough to give him oxygen, a tingle starting at the base of his skull that was mirrored in the tightening at the base of his cock.

If he made a sound, Jordi might catch him. Desperate as he was for the idea of Jordi’s hands on him, Aiden didn’t want his shameful bit of voyeurism to come into the light, and he tried hard to keep himself quiet. But Jordi was _ right there_, built like a truck and touching himself so shamelessly, and he couldn’t help it. Even cutting his air off, even muffling himself completely, Aiden couldn’t stop the low, desperate groan that rocked through his chest as he came.

It was a bright rush of pleasure and release, his come staining his own chest as his hips jerked again. Something like static filled his ears, his vision going white as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, and he yanked his hand away from his mouth to gasp a full chest of air. Too much. It was too much, seeing Jordi in there and wanting him so badly, knowing that this was the closest he’d ever get.

God. He was an awful person. Aiden shuddered as he slowly peeled his eyes open, dragging a hand down his face. The water was still running, which meant Jordi hopefully hadn’t heard him, but he still turned his head to check, unable to stop himself from looking, from wanting to see him one last time.

His heart stopped. Jordi was leaning against the glass, staring dead at him, no longer touching himself despite the fact that his cock was still hard.

It had to be a coincidence. Aiden stared back, trying to slow the frantic beat of his heart, then slowly sat up as Jordi’s eyebrows raised and he deliberately crooked a finger in a ‘come here’ gesture. There was no way—

“Aiden,” Jordi said, his voice muffled but still clear, “_come here_.”

Ice poured down his spine, replaced by a crackle of fire when his imagination took those words and ran wild. Which was stupid, because Jordi was going to kill him, there was no way Jordi wasn’t going to kill him, Aiden couldn’t run fast enough or far enough to get away from him in Milan. Trying to run would be delaying the inevitable.

But it wasn’t common sense that had him up and moving, pulling his shirt off and dropping it on the floor. It was the stupid, senseless, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Jordi was dragging him into the shower for something else entirely.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the mirror when he came through the door. It was bright and opaque, the lights in the bathroom glaring off it while the bedroom behind was too dim to show through it. It didn’t look like a window at all, and a tremble ran through him when he opened the shower door to Jordi’s smug smile. How had he figured it out?

“Listen, I’m s—” Aiden started to say, his words cut off when Jordi grabbed him and yanked him close, the shower door banging shut behind them.

“You’re not.” Jordi’s smile widened, his cock a hard line against Aiden’s stomach. “You wanna know something funny?”

“What?” Aiden asked, mouth dry, all too aware of the press of their chests together. Jordi’s muscle was even more incredible up close, his skin burning hot from the water and steam. Even though he’d just come, Aiden felt a surge of lust rush through him, a desperate longing that he couldn’t stop.

“They remodeled this hotel about a year back, updated a bunch of the rooms. Couple reviews talked about it. It’s a new trend in places like this. Windows between the bedroom and bathroom. _ This _ hotel just had the bright idea of making it a mirror when the bedroom lights were off.” Jordi’s lips pressed to his jaw, right at the edge of his ear. “I was wondering what you’d do when you figured it out.”

“This was a test?” Aiden’s voice was rough, low, his hands smoothing up Jordi’s arms just to feel the swell of muscle in them. Of course it was a test. It was the exact sort of thing Jordi would think was funny. The question was, why hadn’t he gotten angry about it yet?

“Mhm. And you passed with _ flying _ colors.” Jordi’s teeth found his earlobe, drawing a soft moan from him. The hand on Aiden’s hip dropped lower, grabbed his ass and squeezed with intent.

He shuddered, rocking into Jordi’s body. It didn’t matter if he could get hard again when Jordi’s hands were dancing over his skin with obvious intent, his cock still jutting into Aiden too firmly to be anything other than an order. The water was hot, sheeting down over them as Jordi’s hand fisted in his hair and slammed their mouths together,

Aiden moaned again, louder this time now that he didn’t have to hide. Jordi’s tongue was demanding, driving into his mouth with hard, hungry sweeps. Their hips rolled and rocked against each other, Jordi’s other hand still gripping Aiden’s ass firmly, and when the kiss finally broke off, Aiden whispered his name like a promise.

“I want you to suck my cock,” Jordi crooned, voice low and hungry. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Oh god, _ please_,” Aiden moaned, his hands shifting to the firm muscle at Jordi’s hips. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that Jordi could shove him to his knees with force alone, that Jordi could _ make _ him do anything he damn well wanted. Wasn’t that half the reason Aiden had been so thrilled by the idea of Jordi catching him?

The hand on his ass left, Jordi’s grip on his hair shifting in clear command. Aiden let himself drop to his knees, using his grip on Jordi’s hips to keep his balance, burying his face in the hair on Jordi’s stomach and dragging his mouth over the soft skin on his cock. It was so deliciously thick, and another moan dragged out of him as Aiden’s mouth ran up and down the shaft. He couldn’t wait to have it buried in his throat.

Jordi shifted, turning Aiden carefully as he leaned up against one of the shower’s glass walls, his thighs flexing underneath Aiden’s arms. The fingers in his hair kept Aiden from doing anything more than press his head into Jordi’s skin, his own legs spreading wider as he got comfortable on his knees. At least the floor of the shower was tiled in large slabs, leaving less grout to scrape up his legs.

“Check _ you _ out. That’s a fucking picture right there.” Something in Jordi’s voice made Aiden look up from his careful worship. Jordi wasn’t looking directly at him, his gaze slightly to the left of Aiden’s head, and when Aiden followed it, he saw himself in the mirror that looked into the other room.

A jolt of heat shot through him, the flush on his cheeks and slightly glazed look in his eyes all too evident in the reflective surface. Jordi’s cock was heavy and dark where it pressed against his face, the flushed tip of it resting against his temple, and Aiden couldn’t help a muted noise of longing at the sight. He looked up again, trying not to tug against the hand still buried in his hair, then said, “Let me?”

“I could listen to that on goddamn repeat.” Jordi grinned, dragging his wet hair out of his face again, then relaxed his grip on Aiden, letting him move more easily. He seized the opportunity as fast as he could, shifting one hand off Jordi’s hip and curling his fingers around the base of his shaft. His tongue curled around the head as he moaned at the taste of precum beading at its tip, and then he careful closed his lips around it.

A low groan from above rewarded him, spurring him to go further, to swallow more of Jordi’s cock down. As much as he’d been fantasizing about it, the reality was so much better; his jaw already ached, and he hadn’t even managed to fit the whole thing into his throat. Aiden’s eyes slid shut, all of his attention going to relaxing his muscles and taking Jordi in his entirety. He sucked a sharp breath through his nose when Jordi’s cock slid deeper, then moaned when the hand in his hair pushed him down.

His palm flattened over Jordi’s stomach, feeling the way muscles there flexed as Jordi thrusted deeper into his throat. Another broken moan rattled through Aiden’s chest, Jordi’s fingers tightening in his hair as he rocked his hips again. Aiden’s own hips twitched, tight longing coiling through his spine, and he groaned softly just to feel the way it made Jordi shudder. Jordi’s other hand dropped to cup his head, keeping him pinned.

Like a toy. Like an object. Another sharp thrill rushed through him, hot and tight as he made an alarmingly eager noise around Jordi’s cock, sucking sharp breaths through his nose. He had to fight for every breath, Jordi’s thrusts coming with a lazy rhythm that he couldn’t quite match, and the low buzz in his the back of his head grew louder. There was an echoing tingle at the base of his spine, his jaw aching under Jordi’s ungentle affections, and he’d never wanted anything as bad as he’d wanted _ this_.

God, how lucky he was that Jordi had set up this fucking trap in the first place. Jordi rolled his hips and pinned Aiden down, his cock buried so deep in Aiden’s throat that breathing was impossible. A soundless whine trembled through him, his blunt nails digging into Jordi’s pale skin.

“Oh fuck, you suck dick _ way _ better than I thought you would,” Jordi breathed, his voice tight as his fingers tightened in Aiden’s hair. There was just a hint of a tremor on the back edge of his words, like he was barely able to hold onto his self-control, and Aiden wanted to feel it when Jordi finally snapped.

He hummed deliberately in agreement, swallowing around the thick shaft cutting his airway. The sound dragged a groan out of Jordi, his hips stuttering as the hands fisted in Aiden’s hair kept him from pulling off.

Aiden’s hands slid down Jordi’s thighs, curling over his calf muscles as he let himself go slack. The ringing in his ears was deafening now, the wash of static through his nerves a blissful fuzz that he leaned into. Jordi groaned again, pulling out long enough for Aiden to breathe—and the head rush from that made him shudder, moan, lean forward to take more because the sudden air lit him up like a firework, all those sparking nerves burning for Jordi alone.

“Fucking _ shit_, Aiden.” Jordi groaned, beginning to thrust hard and fast. The brief respite of air didn’t last, Jordi’s cock driving into his throat too quick for Aiden to breathe around it. He was limp, eager, helpless to resist being anything other than _ used_, and his frantic, trembling moans caught on the thickness of Jordi’s shaft, were buried by his head plunging deep into Aiden’s throat.

Aiden shuddered as he felt Jordi come, his hands twitching on Jordi’s legs as he swallowed every drop of him down. Jordi’s fingers in his hair loosened, then pulled his head back letting his cock slip free of Aiden’s lips, and Aiden gasped in the first full breath he’d taken in what felt like hours.

“Jesus,” Jordi said, almost inaudible over the rush in Aiden’s ears and the pounding of shower spray all around him. His palms were firm on either side of Aiden’s head, keeping him upright even as Aiden leaned against him harder, unable to stay vertical under his own power.

“I’ve wanted,” Aiden said, his voice hoarse and ragged, “to suck that dick for _ years_, Jordi.”

“Yeah, I could fucking tell. You can’t stand, can you?” There was something dangerously close to amusement and closer still to fondness in Jordi’s tone, and his fingers dragged lazily through Aiden’s hair as he waited for an answer.

“Probably not.” Jordi’s hands tipped him back, the water hitting Aiden’s face and washing through his hair. He shivered at the heat, curling his palms more firmly around the backs of Jordi’s knees, and let himself be moved as needed. “I don’t think I can move at all right now.”

Jordi laughed. “You fucking fetishist. You’re a voyeur _ and _ a guy into choking, you kinky bastard. We’re gonna have _ so _ much fun now that you’re not in denial about it anymore.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at this absurd bathroom, can you believe??](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8c/Emirates_A380_Shower_SPA_ITB2014.jpg/1024px-Emirates_A380_Shower_SPA_ITB2014.jpg)
> 
> This wasn't supposed to be as long as it ended up, but here we are. Aiden's voyeuristic tendencies don't go away just because he's actually dating his object of desire now. :P

The true amount of money Jordi had elected to spend didn’t hit him until they were climbing the stairs to the second story of the plane. On the way out, Aiden hadn’t thought about it—economy was ten seats deep, he was a couple inches too tall for even the boasted ‘larger foot room’ between his seat and the seat in front of him, and the crying baby two rows back had chewed through his attention span the whole time they were flying. So Jordi buying his ticket? Hadn’t really seemed that important.

And even the lounge they’d bummed around in waiting for the flight back, that had been _ nice _ , but not so nice that Aiden hadn’t felt comfortable in it. He’d glanced around at some of the shops, pointedly _ hadn’t _ looked at the rifle cases (now about a pound of ammo lighter than they had been on the way out) and he’d only vaguely been paying attention when Jordi talked about upgrading his ticket. He’d figured that Jordi only flew business class and if the bastard was willing to dump the money on that, more power to him.

But the stairs up made the whole thing more real than Aiden had thought it would, a half-step behind Jordi as they ascended into the plane. He glanced down at his ticket, only now noticing the ‘first class’ marker on it, and followed Jordi past a small lobby with bathroom doors to either side, through a curtain into…

Luxury. Obscene, offensive amounts of luxury. The first class section had moderately sized private cabins down it’s length, fitting a miniature suite into the space of six economy seats. What the fuck.

“Here we go,” Jordi said cheerfully, swinging into his seat. Aiden’s ticket listed the seat across the aisle from Jordi’s, the one with a window attached, and he tucked his carry on luggage under the desk carefully.

There was a wetbar next to his chair. Aiden stared at it blankly as Jordi set his guitar case and rifle case in the seat just in front of him, flipping between his tickets as he decided which one he wanted to use. The stewardess came around almost instantly, beaming and neatly coiffed as she asked what they wanted to drink. He was still reeling over the _ fucking wetbar _ when Jordi ordered a glass of champagne, and Aiden couldn’t help sputtering, “Dom Perignon? _ Seriously?”_

“Come on Aiden, live a little,” Jordi said, looking exceedingly smug. The stewardess was unfazed, simply turning that blazing smile of hers on _ him _ and asking if he’d like the same.

‘Live a little’ Jordi said, as if this fucking—this fucking _ display _ was anything less than obscene. And Jordi had been _ living it up _ in first class while Aiden resented every person beside him down in economy. He’d been up here. Drinking fucking _ champagne_.

“You know what? Fuck it. I’d like a glass of Dom too.” From the way Jordi laughed, he didn’t see it as the thrilling victory Aiden did, but whatever. This was all going on Jordi’s card. _ Aiden _ wasn’t about to shell out for this.

And, he noticed, neither was anyone else. Other than a gentleman looking slightly harried as he came in with his laptop, no one came through the curtains but the staff. His champagne came with a couple amenity kits, and Aiden stared helplessly at the toiletries set before downing his glass as quickly as he could. Toiletries. On a plane.

“Do I even want to know?” he asked, lifting the bottle of shaving cream.

“There’s a shower on board,” Jordi said casually, like that was a normal thing to say. A shower. On a plane. “We should book a couple slots right on top of each other, I’ve seen them let couples go in together before.”

Aiden opened his mouth, then shut it again and sank into his chair to look at his empty champagne glass. The sheer _ newness _ of this—this _ thing _ with Jordi, this thing where they fucked like two people who actually liked each other, this thing where Aiden wasn’t shot dead halfway to the rendezvous point because Jordi noticed the way he stared—it kept catching him off guard. This wasn’t how this trip was supposed to go.

He wasn’t supposed to actually _ enjoy _ himself like this.

Since Jordi was nose-deep in a menu—god, he’d have to look at the menu too, Aiden could _ feel _ his poor Irish ancestors rising up to kill him in his sleep—he turned his attention to everything else in the cabin. Plenty of electronics and things to watch, helpfully and carefully designed to be used by incompetent businesspeople. He toyed with the idea of trying to hack something in here, but none of it was ctOS enabled yet, thank god, and he didn’t really want a stewardess to ask him what he was doing.

That, and he didn’t think Jordi would give him the time. Given the way he’d leaned over to grab Aiden’s ticket and check that they were seated close together, Aiden figured he’d be lucky if he even got a chance to _ sleep _ on the damn plane. With another glance at his cabinmate, he picked up the leather-bound menu himself and started scanning over the offerings.

“Caviar,” he said flatly thirty seconds later.

“It’s the good kind too, seriously, you’ll love it.” Jordi gave him a wide grin, leaning through the open door of his little suite, then flagged down a stewardess for refills on their champagne. “Come on, you’ll have fun. Embrace the decadence.”

“I cannot believe this is how you fucking fly, Jordi.” He shut the menu, setting it to the side before the concept of _ caviar on a plane _ killed him. “You know I’m going to get drunk, right?”

“Well, obviously. Just try not to get so drunk you can’t keep it up,” Jordi said, sipping at his champagne. Which was odd, because he couldn’t possibly be suggesting— 

“On a _ plane?”_ Aiden hissed, trying not to be overheard.

“It’s called the mile high club, Aiden. Haven’t you wanted to be a member?” With absolutely no shame at all, Jordi waggled his eyebrows. And, okay, Aiden had toyed with the idea when Jordi mentioned the shower (on a fucking _ plane_) but there was a difference between idly fantasizing and… 

“Someone will catch us.” There was the solid pillar of reason Aiden could cling to. After all, Jordi wouldn’t want to get caught, right?

“Oh, probably. Not like they’ll care though. I mean, come on, they knew what they were doing when they made that shower as big as they did.”

“I cannot fucking believe you.” Aiden sank deeper into his seat, flipping his menu up again. The expensive dishes blurred together as the plane slowly filled up below them, and when the smiling stewardess came around to ask what he wanted, he picked something at random and forgot it again as soon as she was out of sight.

On the way out, his dinner in economy had consisted of a lukewarm chicken breast on bland mashed potatoes, served by rote with the rest of his row’s food almost two hours into the flight and _ definitely _ microwaved. He hadn’t cared at the time, too busy trying to ignore the crying child two rows back and starving anyways, but he cared a _ lot _ when the stewardess reappeared not even twenty minutes later and dropped off their meals. They hadn’t even left the terminal yet.

“You left me down in economy on the first flight,” Aiden said, staring down at his steak and the colorful arrangement of roasted vegetables on the side.

“You didn’t suck my dick before the first flight,” Jordi replied lazily, already digging into his own food. If a restaurant meal on a plane was unusual to him, he wasn’t giving any indications of it. Did he really fucking fly like this, _ every _ time?

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His reservations about the class disparity aside, it was a good steak. Aiden tried not to feel guilty about finishing it all off, and when the stewardess swung around again to collect the dishes and tell them they were ready to leave, he asked for another glass of champagne. The drunker he was, the less he’d be focused on the money burned into the first class section.

Beside him, Jordi was getting comfortable, shrugging out of his jacket and fussing about his fancy personal cabin seat. The view of tarmac outside didn’t compare to the brief flash of Jordi’s wrist bones, the dark hair on his forearms when his sleeves slid up, the way the open buttons on his shirt revealed the silver knife necklace and the muscle underneath. For a second, Aiden could almost forget the disgusting amount of wealth on display all around them, too caught in the faint sheen of sweat in the divot of Jordi’s throat.

His ears popped as they climbed and Jordi’s teeth flashed white when he caught Aiden staring. “You are such a fucking voyeur, you know that? It’s great, I love it.”

“I’m _ not_,” Aiden muttered despite the fact that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Jordi was the one that gave him permission in the first place. If he hadn’t wanted Aiden to go from clandestine peeking to the blatant looks he was casting now, he shouldn’t have teased him like that.

“You are.” Jordi grinned wider, rolling his sleeves up properly, the muscle in his arms tightening with the motion. “Once this thing hits cruising altitude, you want to grab some drinks?”

“I can’t believe this plane has a goddamn bar on it too. Fine. We’ll get drinks.” It’d help him get his mind off the ostentatious displays of wealth all around him, and if it helped him ease the anxiety around getting caught… Well. He wasn’t a voyeur. Or an exhibitionist. But a little liquid courage could convince him to do a lot of things.

He certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d do those things without the alcohol, not to Jordi. Didn’t matter how true it was.

The pilot came over the intercoms a few minutes later, his smooth, polite voice informing the passengers that they were free to move about the cabin again. Jordi kicked the side of his seat pointedly as he stood up and stretched, and Aiden made a half-hearted swing at his stomach as he followed. Their only other companion had already grabbed his laptop and left first class—Aiden spotted his retreating back through the business class, where most people were settling in for a long flight under the orange glow of the setting sun. By the time he and Jordi reached the cocktail bar, the businessman was set up at one of the tiny tabletops tucked to either side of lounge area, his laptop open and a margarita in a tall glass at his fingertips.

All that space back there, and he wanted to scrunch up into the lounge instead. Aiden shook his head a little, resting his elbows against the bar as Jordi eyed the liquor bottles behind the bartender critically. He’d skimmed through the drinks menu at his seat, but another one was helpfully set next to his arm.

“Get me a Chivas Regal, neat,” Jordi said eventually, one hand braced against the polished wood bar next to Aiden. “What about you, are you going to actually live a little for once? Drink something other than shitty beer?”

“I had the champagne, didn’t it?” Aiden asked, mostly rhetorical. From the way Jordi sneered at him, it wasn’t a good enough answer. “Jesus, fine. A cosmopolitan?”

“That is a _ girly _ drink,” Jordi said, now delighted and grinning like an asshole.

“I’m living a little. I’ll get something suitably manly next time.” Aiden rolled his eyes as Jordi cackled at him, then took his very pink drink and settled on the curved seat of one booth. For all that Jordi was mocking him, he was fast enough to sit down as well, his free hand curling over the muscle in Aiden’s thigh.

A few other refugees from business class filtered in, chatting with each other around the bar and laughing as the bartender turned up the charm. Most of them headed back to their seats with drinks in hand, but a few clustered on the other side of the cabin, dressed to the nines despite the fact that they were on a plane. Jordi, even missing his jacket, fit right in with his silk shirt and tailored pants. Aiden, in jeans worn thin around the knees and a sweater that was fraying at the hems, did not.

Given that he also wasn’t stupid enough to drop several thousand on a plane ticket, he refused to feel bad about his relatively sloppy outfit. It helped that the bartender was heavy on the pour, his cosmo _ significantly _ more alcohol than cranberry juice. Jordi’s hand slipped from his thigh when he stood and set the martini glass down on the bar top, and he didn’t break off from a lively conversation about stocks in international banks when Aiden ordered a manhattan.

Fuck it. Jordi was paying. Aiden got a second manhattan after downing the first faster than he probably ought have.

He sipped this one slower, but he could still feel some of the tension bleeding away now that he was pleasantly fuzzed around the edges. The plane was big enough that even the occasional hiccup of turbulence barely rattled the floor underneath his feet, and the cluster of people around the bar filtered back to their seats as true night conquered the faltering edges of twilight. Whoever Jordi was talking to—_ not _ the businessman, though he was still seated in the lounge, engrossed in his computer—seemed rather animated about something involving Swiss francs, and Jordi was matching his energy easily. Still matched it even when Aiden settled back in the booth next to him with his fourth cocktail of the evening, leaning into the warm crescent of Jordi’s body, just to feel the way his silk shirt crinkled at the touch.

Really, really heavy on the pour. Aiden squinted down at his martini—he couldn’t remember which of the three he’d ordered, but dark color suggested coffee was involved somewhere—then grunted when Jordi’s hand landed on his leg again.

“We ought to turn in for the night, huh?” The words were directed at him, even if Jordi’s attention wasn’t, and Aiden mulled that question over for a long minute before deciding it _ probably _ needed an answer.

“I’d be fine sitting here, but _ you’re _ the one that got the nice seats,” he pointed out as magnanimously as he could. After all, Jordi’s bad financial decisions were benefiting him greatly so far. No point in pissing him off.

His companion twisted around to squint at him, then looked down at the half-finished martini held delicately between Aiden’s fingers. He was tipsy enough to be clumsy and that meant using an exaggerated amount of care with the stick-thin stem of the glass. Jordi’s gaze dragged back up, focusing on his face again, and Aiden flushed a little at the scrutiny.

“Yeah, you’re drunk,” Jordi said. The guy he was chatting with laughed and ambled back over to the bar to get another drink. Aiden seriously considered following him, but Jordi’s hand on his thigh kept him sitting down.

“I’m buzzed, not drunk,” Aiden informed him, downing the rest of his martini. Jordi stole the glass from him while scoffing in disagreement, then stood up and set it and his own empty tumbler on the bar top. Instead of ordering another, he grabbed Aiden’s hand and hauled him upright, a slight judder in the plane leaving Aiden pressed closer than he intended.

“You’re drunk,” Jordi said again, his arm sliding around Aiden’s back and keeping him close. “They serve better shit than your piss beer here, you know that, right?”

“I can hold my liquor, Jordi.” He was _ not _ more than tipsy. If anything, the problem here was _ Jordi_—Aiden had always suffered from a guilty, desperate attraction to him, and now that he was free to indulge it, he found it impossible to keep himself in line. He wanted to watch Jordi talk for hours, wanted to see the way his silk shirt creased around the muscle of his biceps when he gestured, wanted to watch the light shine in his eyes when he got started on a subject he cared about.

But he didn’t want to do it here, when it meant being surrounded by shit he couldn’t afford. Not when it meant Jordi was paying attention to a higher class of people that Aiden couldn’t dream of matching.

Distracted by that unhappy thought and the way Jordi’s tongue flashed pink when he laughed, Aiden missed whatever Jordi was actually saying. It probably wasn’t important though, not when Jordi’s hand was still warm on the small of his back as he turned them back towards the body of the plane. Towards first class. Away from the bar.

“You’re not subtle,” he murmured, letting Jordi push him past the rows of dozing business class flyers. The cabin was softly lit, emergency lights and the dim running lights the only things on now. A decade ago, he might have walked past lights turned on for the sake of reading, but there were none now—the night owls and insomniacs all had computers and mobile devices now instead, screens dimmed until they were only worth noting in passing.

First class was dark, the third occupant still engaged at the bar. Jordi’s fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans when Aiden moved to settle back in his overpriced chair, and he stumbled back into Jordi’s body again.

“You know, we could probably fit two with the seat flat,” Jordi murmured into his ear, his breath hot as it brushed over Aiden’s skin.

That didn’t make sense, so Aiden turned his head to look at Jordi’s seat. The private cabin, obscenely big for an airplane as it was, still wasn’t much bigger than a twin, but with the seat adjusted and covered in a white sheet, it made the perfect enclosure for a bed. Low to the ground, with space for their legs underneath the desk.

“When did that happen?” Aiden asked, baffled.

“I asked one of the stewardesses to set it up for sleeping while you were still on the manhattans.” Jordi’s lips dragged over the stubble at Aiden’s jaw. “And I’m thinking, it would be a close fit, but you won’t mind, will you?”

His heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to, oh god did he want to, even knowing that it was much less discreet than Jordi’s hand on his thigh in the cocktail bar. It was one thing to have Jordi’s attention on him in the hotel room, but this was something else entirely, and the hand burning into his hip promised much more than just curling up together on a too-small bed, especially with Jordi’s allusions to the mile high club.

“Well?” Jordi swayed against him as the plane shivered in the air, a slight roll of turbulence barely felt in the behemoth they were flying in.

“I’d like that,” Aiden said, mouth dry, feeling the soft huff of Jordi’s laughter against his neck.

“Yeah, I bet you would. Let me lay down first.” Finally pulling away, Jordi settled on the white sheets and toed his shoes off. Aiden leaned against the door to the cabin, shifting with the slight motion of the plane, and swallowed as he watched Jordi unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. The dim lighting of first class curved over the swell of Jordi’s pecs, disappearing into the heavier shadows of his stomach muscles, the dark hair there outlining the shape of his abs. 

Maybe he was drunker than he thought—or maybe it was just Jordi’s presence still, the remembered taste of his skin, the look in his eyes as he smirked up at Aiden. It was hard to breathe in the recycled air of the cabin, the slight ozone taste of it, but maybe that was Jordi too. It seemed like Aiden could never quite get enough of him.

“Well?” Jordi asked, sprawled out on the tight little twin, his slacks bulging in the front.

He didn’t need much more urging than that. Aiden hastily shoved his own shoes off, kicking them under the chair along with Jordi’s, then climbed on top of the flattened chair. His thighs bracketed Jordi’s hips, the front of his jeans too tight on his swelling cock, and he let out a shuddery sigh when Jordi rolled his hips up into him.

“Someone’s going to see us,” Aiden whispered, staring down at the thin curve of Jordi’s smile, the hard line of his jaw. He wanted to kiss Jordi and never stop kissing him, drown in the taste of his mouth and his skin, the feel of Jordi’s hands on him. For so long, all he’d had were fantasies—now that the reality was within his reach, he never wanted to stop touching.

“They won’t give a shit unless you’re loud.” One warm hand traveled up Aiden’s side under the soft knit of his sweater, Jordi’s thumb coming to rest on his nipple. “Pop that fly of yours and lay down, I wanna see how we match up.”

It was hard to keep himself from moaning but Aiden managed to bite it back, carefully lowering himself into the space next to Jordi on the makeshift bed. He couldn’t stop himself from touching though, dragging his hands over the muscle in Jordi’s chest as the other man more deftly undid the button on Aiden’s jeans and his own slacks.

Jordi’s hot length dragged against his cock, pulling another near-silent moan out of Aiden as he pushed his face into Jordi’s neck. His hand fumbled lower, reaching for their shafts and pushing them closer together, his breath stuttering as Jordi’s fingers curled around his wrist. There was a little too much friction for it to be enjoyable but Aiden was drunk on Jordi’s presence, on the threat of being caught and his own exhilarating carelessness about the prospect.

“Add a little spit and then touch me like you touch yourself,” Jordi breathed in his ear, the rough hair of his beard scraping against Aiden’s cheek. He made a low noise of acknowledgement, pulling away just enough to spit in his palm without fucking everything up. Jordi’s hands never left him, trailing over the denim of Aiden’s jeans and mapping out the shape of his thighs and ass. 

The need to be quiet was overwhelming, choking him as effectively as any hand around his throat. Little hitching gasps kept slipping through his parted lips, muffled only by the silk of Jordi’s shirt where Aiden buried his face in it. Adding saliva was enough to turn each twist of his wrist pleasurable, the drag of his palm a smooth glide over the sensitive skin on his shaft. Jordi’s cock was thick and heavy against his own, big enough that Aiden couldn’t fit his hand around them both—especially not when the lazy roll of Jordi’s hips kept throwing his rhythm off.

Aiden bit down on the fabric covering Jordi’s shoulder, rutting into his hand and making a tight noise of desperation when Jordi’s calloused fingers curled over his own. The additional pressure and extra bit of reach made him shudder, lightning crawling down his spine. His skin was too hot and he couldn’t breathe right and everything was a rush of pleasure and want, coiling through him tightly and building as a pressure under his skin with every stroke of his cock.

Jordi’s breath was hot and wet against his ear, his soft gasps just as muted as Aiden’s own strangled noises. Quiet enough that the low thrum of the jet’s engines drowned it out for everyone but Aiden, who drank in the catch in Jordi’s breathing, the vibration of a subvocal groan, the way Jordi’s hips stuttered for a second when Aiden’s thumb dragged over the head of his cock. This was a version of Jordi that belonged to Aiden and Aiden alone. No one else would ever get to see him like this.

That thought was what finally drove him over the edge, a whimper breaking free as he spilled over their tangled fingers, smearing come across Jordi’s stomach and into his own sweater. Jordi’s hand tightened, forced him to keep gripping them both as his still-hard cock ground into Aiden’s softening one, and moments later he came as well. The quiet, longing moan Jordi let out burned itself into Aiden’s memory, something he’d always think of anytime he took his own dick in hand again.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, hands shaking as he wiped them off on his sweater and gripped at Jordi’s shirt again. That was going to be a problem shortly, but Aiden couldn’t bring himself to care. The cooling sweat on his back made the sweater uncomfortable enough, and it wasn’t like he intended to keep wearing it.

“You’ve got a change of clothes accessible, right?” Jordi whispered back, his head turning so that his lips brushed Aiden’s cheek. His fingers caught in the hem of Aiden’s sweater briefly, then dragged up his side until they could bury themselves in Aiden’s hair.

Aiden made a low noise of affirmation, though he couldn’t remember which carry on had them. He was too caught up in Jordi’s touch, in the way Jordi’s lips slid over his own, soft and lingering. The first few kisses were chaste, almost more an exchanging of breath than anything else; then Jordi’s fingers tightened in his hair, dragging against Aiden’s scalp as he sealed their mouths together.

All the alcohol in the world could get him as drunk as Jordi’s lips on his own, Jordi’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth as Aiden submitted easily to it. The hand in his hair was demanding, Jordi’s muscular form pressed firmly against him. Aiden’s fingers curled and uncurled in the silk of Jordi’s shirt, all of his attention focused on tangling his tongue with Jordi’s.

He had no idea how much time passed with them laying there, lips and tongues vying for control. Jordi was a warm weight against him, body angled so that neither of them were fully exposed, one of his ankles hooked over Aiden’s leg. It was so easy to drown in the taste of him, and Aiden sighed into Jordi’s mouth as he chased that taste when Jordi started to pull away.

“Down boy,” Jordi said, quiet and amused. Aiden blinked, then finally noticed the stewardess that was standing at the door to Jordi’s private cabin. The fixed, picture-perfect smile on her face didn’t waver, but he could feel the blood rushing to his face, some awful part of him wondering if she’d heard them.

“Your shower is ready,” she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her eyes. “Since there’s so few of you in first class, we were able to get both of your reservations in the same bathroom. You’ll be able to stay in there for a full hour.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jordi said, totally unbothered by the fact that Aiden was dying of embarrassment in his arms. As soon as she was out of earshot, Jordi looked back at him and grinned. “Told you they didn’t give a shit. Tuck your dick back into your pants and grab some new clothes.”

“Asshole.” Aiden couldn’t stop blushing, making him incredibly grateful that the lights were so dim. Maybe Jordi couldn’t tell. He sat up and buttoned his jeans again, climbing over Jordi to freedom. The smaller carry on was tucked under the desk of his private cabin, which helped him compose himself a little more as he cracked it open.

Maybe he was drunker than he’d first thought. Not as drunk _ now_, not when he’d spent god knows how long drowning himself in Jordi’s body, but it was the only good explanation for why he’d gone along with that. Every other possible reason was unacceptable.

The fact that, even now, he was pretty sure he’d do it again was…

_ Down boy_, he mouthed to himself as he dug out a change of clothes for them both, already regretting how cavalier he’d been about using his sweater as a towel. Fuck. He’d have to make sure he scrubbed it before tossing it in the wash. Maybe there’d be something he could use in the bathroom.

Jordi was waiting for him when he straightened up again, a sly smile on his face and a small bag of toiletries—not the ones the airline had supplied for them—dangling from his fingers. His shirt was buttoned back up again but it was a sloppy job, the buttons offset from their holes and the neck of his shirt still gaping open. The knife necklace gleamed under the dim blue lights. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aiden muttered, jerking his chin towards the stairs. “Showers are that way, right?”

“You _ were _ paying attention when we came up.” Jordi’s grin widened, then he set off. The section of the plane over the stairs was brightly lit, a selection of snacks and drinks for purchase on display opposite of the stairs. To either side, wood-paneled bathroom doors curved with the shape of the plane. An attendant waited there, and he opened one of the doors without even blinking at their disheveled appearance.

“You were right,” Aiden muttered as it shut behind them, setting their clothes on the cushioned bench next to the marble sink. His experience with airplane bathrooms ran to plastic and the faint but omnipresent scent of urine. This bathroom was not that.

“What am I right about? I mean, I’m always right, but getting you to admit it is fun.” The wall running alongside the door was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors, a set of wood cabinets with various amenities labeled on the front splitting them down the center column. Another mirror with rim lighting hovered over the sink, a set of towels stacked on the counter.

“They don’t give a shit.” Aiden peeled his sweater off, grimacing at the stains on it, then dropped it on the floor and stared at the shower. A glass door separated it from the rest of the bathroom, but it also had handholds for any possible turbulence. The controls had a set of instructions politely posted up next to them and it was big enough for two people, though it would be a bit of a squeeze for him and Jordi. It was… excessive.

All of this was excessive. Maybe he’d been drunk earlier, but Aiden was beginning to think that was the only way he would make it through this flight with his sanity intact. Tipsy Aiden could forget the _ marble fucking countertops _ and focus on Jordi’s chest muscles instead. Sobering Aiden kept wondering how expensive this bathroom was to maintain.

The light brush of Jordi’s fingertips against his spine made him jump. The shit-eating grin was back on Jordi’s face when Aiden scowled at him in the mirror, and he’d gotten naked while Aiden was stuck contemplating the class disparity inherent to the fucking bathroom. With the pale, diffused lighting of the bathroom, Jordi looked like a model—all dark hair and firm muscle, the cut lines of his hips leading Aiden’s eyes down to the half-full curve of his cock.

“Jesus.” Aiden swallowed, unable to look away, his fingers creeping up to his throat in an unconscious mirror of how he’d touched himself watching Jordi in the hotel room. “Did you take something or are you always like this?”

“I’m always like this,” Jordi said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Aiden’s jeans and dragging them down slowly. “And, if I’m not mistaken, you’re up and willing to play too, right?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Aiden protested weakly despite the fact that he could feel himself getting hard. He couldn’t resist it, not when Jordi was so casual about his nakedness and so demanding of his attention. He’d always enjoyed being ordered around.

“Uh-huh.” Jordi didn’t sound impressed, especially when his deft fingers curled around Aiden’s thickening cock and stroked. “We’ve got an hour in here and a collective total of ten minutes of water in the shower. I think you’d look good pinned against the mirror with my dick up your ass. How’s that sound?”

His dick jumped in Jordi’s grip as a frankly embarrassing noise escaped past the hand wrapped around his throat. Aiden didn’t dare look at himself in _ any _ of the mirrors in the room, knowing that he was probably bright red and too eager. Jordi’s smirk dragged him in with the same kind of gravity as a blackhole, until Aiden was close enough to press a daring kiss to his lips.

Jordi’s hand squeezed him slightly as he kissed back, parting Aiden’s lips with his tongue and exploring his mouth like he hadn’t spent the last half-hour doing exactly that. Aiden melted into it, let his jeans slide down his legs as he pulled Jordi closer, and finally let himself groan when he realized the attendant wouldn’t be able to hear them. He’d been quiet all night and now he was _ finally _ going to loosen the iron grip he’d kept on his self-control.

When they finally broke apart again, Aiden licked his lips and said, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Jordi laughed, letting him go and stepping away. Much as he missed the warm touch of Jordi’s fingers on his skin, he wanted Jordi’s body draped over his even more. There wasn’t a handhold across the mirror for him to grip, but it was easy enough for him to brace his palms against its silvered surface instead, carefully spreading his legs as he watched Jordi’s movements in the reflection.

There was a bottle of lube in Jordi’s toiletry bag, because of course there was. Aiden snorted softly at the sight, trying to school his expression into something a little less mocking when Jordi glanced over at him. From the way Jordi lifted his eyebrows, he hadn’t been very successful.

“You’re very prepared,” Aiden pointed out, trying not to grin at the faintly offended look on Jordi’s face.

“You’re very mouthy for someone who expects to be sitting comfortably for the rest of the flight,” Jordi told him coolly, popping the cap on the lube with a casual deliberation that underscored his point. Aiden’s mouth went dry, humor buried under the sudden surge of _ want _ that jolted through him.

He’d had Jordi’s cock in his mouth and his hand, knew how thick it was. Remembering that he was going to get a chance to feel it buried deep in his ass was enough to kill his urge to joke about it. After all, he didn’t want to ruin his chances.

Jordi’s free hand smoothed over his ass as he moved up behind Aiden, his thumb brushing over Aiden’s hole. He shifted restlessly on his feet, dropping his gaze to the floor since he couldn’t watch Jordi in the mirror anymore. The drag of lubed up fingers over his taint made him gasp, a shiver riding up his spine as Jordi leaned in and buried them deep. Two at once, forcing him open, driving a low groan out of Aiden as he rocked back into the pressure.

The fingers in his ass worked deeper, twisting as Jordi lubed him up and stretched him wide. He bit his lip, a soft whine escaping when Jordi pulled his fingers out, but the emptiness didn’t last long. Jordi lined up behind him, guiding the head of his cock into Aiden with a slow, steady pressure. He kept moving at that same slow pace, hands keeping Aiden’s hips still as he slid in to the hilt.

“Fuck, you are tighter than I thought you’d be.” The small, experimental thrust made Aiden gasp, his hands flattening on the mirror. With a hum, Jordi draped over his back, hand smoothing around Aiden’s side as his mouth found Aiden’s neck.

God, but he’d wanted this for so long. Knowing that Jordi was leaving bruises behind, knowing that he was being _ marked _ in a way that would be hard to explain—it was humiliating, just how badly Aiden wanted that. If Jordi made the mark permanent, he’d know this wasn’t some horny fever dream. If Jordi made a claim, then Aiden wouldn’t have to worry about losing this the moment the trip ended.

Jordi’s body was hot where it pressed against him, his cock a thick shaft that Aiden could almost taste in the back of his throat. The hand on his stomach was equally hot, sharp counterpoint to the cold glass under Aiden’s palms. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, delirious with longing, and Jordi’s breath was like fire against his ear.

“Hey,” Jordi whispered, his lips brushing the edge of Aiden’s jaw, “look at me.”

When had he shut his eyes? Aiden opened them, meeting the gaze of his own reflection in the mirror. There was a red flush painted across his cheeks, his lips parted and wet, and Jordi’s grin was blindingly white when Aiden finally looked at him. At this angle, he couldn’t see much of Jordi—the pinkness of his mouth, the blackness of his eyes, the way his pale thighs flexed when he rolled his hips and drove his cock deeper. And yet it was still too much, a soft groan dragging out of Aiden’s throat as he let his head hang.

“Aw, what, you don’t wanna watch yourself? Because it’s a great view. You take my cock like a fucking champion, Pearce.” Jordi thrusted once, hard, forcing another needy noise out of him, his teeth catching Aiden’s earlobe. “I’d take a fucking video of this if I could. My own personal little peepshow.”

“Oh god,” Aiden whimpered, a tremble running through him as he fisted his hands against the mirror. A video would be fucking permanent alright, and he couldn’t tell if he loved or hated the idea. If it were just Jordi, he’d already be installing the cameras.

“You liked that more than I thought you would,” Jordi said as he started to rock his hips slowly. “I shouldn’t be so surprised though. You like to watch. I bet you’d fucking _ love _ to watch me ruin you.”

His teeth caught on Aiden’s skin, worrying at it until Aiden pushed his hips back and groaned. He was desperate for Jordi to move, to fuck him, to do anything more than keeping him spread open and trembling for his viewing pleasure. Even if the thought of being Jordi’s private piece of art turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

Fuck. Maybe he _ would _ let Jordi take a video next time. 

The hand on his stomach shifted down, curling around his cock as Jordi stroked him lazily to the same rhythm as his thrusts. Too slow, too _ fucking _ slow, but at least that tiny bit of friction gave Aiden something to focus on other than the drag of Jordi’s cock over his prostate, the overwhelming pleasure that still wasn’t enough. He needed motion. He needed— 

“God, just _ fuck _ me already.” Aiden’s nails bit into his palms, the mirror skin-warm under his fists now. “I need you to—fuck, _ please _ Jordi.”

“I like you begging too,” Jordi said with a hum, his voice low and pleased. The hand around Aiden’s cock shifted back, Jordi’s fingers digging into his hips and keeping him in place. For an agonizing second, he didn’t move any further, breath ghosting over the back of Aiden’s neck.

“Please,” Aiden whispered.

With a soft laugh, Jordi pulled out, driving back in with a hard thrust that forced a moan out of Aiden. His grip on Aiden’s hips tightened, pulled him back into the thrusts as he sunk his teeth into the meat of Aiden’s shoulder. Another desperate noise tore free from Aiden’s throat, his legs spreading further as he pushed back into hot curve of Jordi’s body. God, but he was so _ thick_.

Jordi’s cock pounded into him relentlessly, all the slow teasing from earlier vanished in the face of Jordi’s desire to fuck him stupid. The teeth at his shoulder sunk deeper, Jordi’s groan muffled by the flesh there, but Aiden didn’t have any way to stop his own noises. All his self-control was gone, helpless moans spilling from his lips as he drowned in the overwhelming pleasure of Jordi’s cock buried inside him.

The drag of Jordi’s nails over his skin made Aiden gasp louder, sparks of heat following the motion. He felt like he was boiling in his own skin, the taut coil of need in his gut winding tighter with every thrust, his fists flattening out against the mirror again as he braced himself fully against it. Jordi’s hands on his hips were the only thing keeping him upright.

“Jordi, I’m gonna—” His desperate plea ended in a low groan, back arching as he clenched tight around Jordi and came with a stuttering jerk of his hips.

An echoing groan came from behind him, Jordi’s mouth dragging wetly over the bruises he’d left behind as his thrusts picked up in pace. Aiden was ruinously sensitive, the drag of Jordi’s cock through his hole hovering on the edge of painful, but he didn’t have the strength to do anything more than stand and take it. Even standing was a risky prospect.

“Ah fuck, _ fuck_,” Jordi hissed against his skin, thrusting in a final time before shuddering as he came. The heavy weight of him threatened to make them both topple, but Aiden was almost willing to just let it happen.

“My legs aren’t going to hold up much longer,” he managed, thighs trembling as his sweaty palms dragged down the mirror. In its reflection, he was utterly debauched; the flush still spread across his cheeks and down his chest, darkening bruises littering the shoulder Jordi’s mouth had worried at. More bruises in the shape of Jordi’s fingers stretched over his hipbones, a smear of semen on the mirror obscuring one of them. Fuck, they’d have to clean that up before they left. He wasn’t going to make some poor stewardess take care of that.

“Mm, yeah. Give me a second,” Jordi said, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to the lovebites on Aiden’s neck. His grip shifted to something a little less punishing, then he carefully pulled out as Aiden gasped quietly.

“I can’t believe we did that.” Aiden couldn’t meet his own reflection’s gaze, dragging a shaking hand over his mouth as he leaned more heavily against the mirrored wall. The worst part was the knowledge that he’d do it again in a heartbeat. Knowing how Jordi’s cock felt in him now, he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Well, lucky for us there’s a shower in here to wash away the evidence, right?” Jordi grinned when Aiden looked at him, then jerked his head towards the shower. “Go. Get. I’ll grab the soap, we’ll have to turn the water on and off as we use it. It’s ecofriendly or whatever.”

Remembering the rest of the opulence on display, Aiden snorted. But once he was sure that his legs would hold, he pushed away from the mirror and climbed in the shower, resting against the back wall as the sweat cooled on his superheated skin. He wasn’t sure how this limited water thing would work, but fuck it. Jordi was involved.

He’d do a lot of things if Jordi was involved.

A few moments later, the man in question appeared, setting a couple small bottles down on the recessed shelf built into the shower for that purpose. Aiden watched him fuss about the shower controls, more interested in the way Jordi’s muscles flexed with controlled power than whatever the hell kind of faucet they were working with here. Either water would happen, or it wouldn’t.

With a noise of triumph, Jordi managed to make water happen. The tight confines of the shower filled up with steam in moments, and Aiden sighed in relief as he basked in it. Jordi was soaking his hair, making sure his entire body was wet before he grabbed Aiden and swung him under the spray.

“Get wet, then hit the big button,” Jordi said, dumping shampoo in one hand. With a shake of his head, Aiden ducked his head under the spray, the hot water pounding into his sore muscles blissfully. He smacked the button after a minute, then reached for the shampoo Jordi had left behind.

“I still can’t believe this thing has a fucking shower,” he said, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair while Jordi maneuvered into the space next to him. “What, are we rinsing our hair out at the same time?”

“Damn right we are. The more water we save now, the more we can soak once we’re clean.” Jordi waited for him to finish up, then turned the spray on again. Since he had less of a mop of hair on his head, Aiden was able to lean out of Jordi’s way after a short while, the cool side of the shower wall a wonderful counterpoint to the hot steam still filling the space.

The water shut off again, Jordi’s wet hair plastered to his neck as he swept it out of his face. Aiden drank the sight in, the dark line of Jordi’s beard and the light smattering of stubble growing in around its meticulously maintained edges. Jordi caught him looking and grinned again, leaning in until their lips were nearly touching. “I don’t think you can get it up a third time, you know.”

“Yeah, but maybe I like looking anyways,” Aiden said before closing the gap and kissing Jordi. He could feel the soft huff of laughter against his lips, then Jordi’s hands cupped his face and kept him close, their mouths working against each other with lazy ease.

When they broke apart again, Jordi reached past him for the soap. “Come on. I’ll wash you, you’ll wash me, you’ll get to drool over these muscles you can’t stop watching… we’ll take our time with it.”

“And when we’re done?” Aiden asked, already trailing his fingers down the swell of muscle in Jordi’s chest.

“When we’re done, we’ll start talking about round three.”


End file.
